


Always

by MrsMoosie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drinking, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Male Aziraphale (Good Omens), Male Crowley (Good Omens), Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25784890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMoosie/pseuds/MrsMoosie
Summary: DTIYS for @WhiteleyFoster!Set in 1923. Aziraphale and Crowley share a smoke on the roof, which turns into much more. 100 years later, Aziraphale finally finds what it means for him to be a good Angel.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteleyFoster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/gifts).



> Oh I am so excited to post this! This is my first DTIYS, which is I suppose a WTIYS!
> 
> Thank you of course, @whiteleyfoster for your beautiful rooftop scene that is of course the reason behind this. I only have so many characters allowed in this section and there’s too many words to explain how wonderful you are!
> 
> So enjoy. I had a hard time stopping this when I did, but if I didn’t we’d have an “E” rating. 😘
> 
> NOTE: Female (she/her) pronouns for Crowley in 1923. Male (he/him) pronouns for Crowley in 2020.

~**~1923~**~

  
What was it to be a good Angel? Aziraphale followed all the rules, did as he was told, never moved a toe out of line. If that’s what it took for him to remain in Heaven’s good graces, then why wouldn’t he? It was what he considered being a good Angel meant, and he’d been doing so since the beginning. 

Even good Angels have secrets, though. Aziraphale had been consorting with Crowley for ages, keeping in the forefront of his mind that not a soul- damned or otherwise- could ever know. He was frightened of what would happen if head office did find out about their arrangement. It seemed he was destined to hide their relationship forever. 

He was still a good Angel though... right?

The year was now 1923. He sat on the roof of a large mansion, staring up into the sky. The stars hid behind a few clouds, lit up by the moon on full display. Heaven was so far out his mind, as other thoughts spun around in his head. This night had been so wonderful, and full of memories he’d cherish for years to come. 

Aziraphale feared he was having a bit of a hard time fitting in with this new decade. The turn of the calendar into 1920 had certainly brought out something in these Londoners, and post war excitement was fueling that fire. The party they were attending was at a massive mansion, with meticulously attended to gardens and fountains, a swimming pool, and a live band all evening. The bar was very busy with guests ordering drinks, and the owner was nowhere to be seen. Aziraphale thought it strange, but humans had always been strange creatures.

Crowley had adapted much easier than he had. Aziraphale supposed that’s because she was a demon. Drinking and smoking came with the territory. Not to mention being up to no good, tempting the humans into not so pleasant evenings of mischief making. Aziraphale would normally have his hands full, thwarting the forces of evil and so forth. This was _Crowley_ though, and Aziraphale did deserve a _bit_ of a break, after all. The war had ended, and he was tired from the amount of miracles he’d had to perform to push the war into the direction of righteousness.

Crowley though… She’d slept through the Great War. Aziraphale hadn’t spoken to her much since she’d asked for Holy Water. Now, nearly 60 or so years later she showed up. She was refreshed, ready to move past their quarrel. The demon was actually quite chipper, and Aziraphale let their spat be forgiven. Forgiveness is what good Angels did, after all.

Though Crowley was forgiven, Aziraphale would not forget. He was afraid. Holy water would destroy Crowley completely, and the thought of giving her that power? What if something were to happen to Crowley because _he_ provided it? Aziraphale would certainly _never_ forgive himself for hurting his best friend... If that’s what they were, anyway. A ‘friend’ was perhaps the best word he could come up with, though he would welcome Crowley as more than just friends, if she so chose. Aziraphale’s thoughts on the matter of a deeper relationship with Crowley typically drifted to poor Oscar Wilde, and he refused for either of them to succumb to a fate so cruel. Maybe in another century, love between two men, or supernatural beings, could be accepted. Aziraphale looked sadly at the night sky. He seemed to say that every century. 

“Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale looked to his left and saw Crowley’s head peeking out a window. She grinned and crawled out, clutching a small bag with her and attempting to hide her… dignity. She’d dressed to the nines, in a ravishing black number with long strands of pearls hanging down around her neck. Her hair was cut short, with long black and white feathers coming from her sparkling hairband. Her strappy shoes highlighted her beautiful, sinewy legs. She complimented his own attire of a cream colored tux nicely. Aziraphale suddenly wished he’d worn a piece of black to compliment her back. His heart did a flip and his cheeks turned pink. He couldn’t help it, she always had such an effect on him.

“What brings you up here?” Aziraphale asked politely. Crowley straddled the steeple of the roof and started to fish around in her small black bag, finding a pack of smokes and a box of matches. Aziraphale plucked the match box from her. He took one out and brushed it against the side of the box, bringing a soft glow between them as the fire sizzled. Crowley leaned forward, taking a few puffs before settling back. She took a drag, golden eyes watching Aziraphale as he waved the match out and set it behind him on the chimney’s ledge. Her thin lips turned into a smirk as she exhaled to the side.

“Reading Mrs. Christie again, Angel? You’re acting quite mysterious tonight, disappearing up to the roof and all.”

“No actually.” Aziraphale set the match box back into Crowley’s bag, “I’m just enjoying the quiet, taking in the night sky.”

Crowley rolled her eyes, “Oh applesauce, don’t give me that.” 

“Applesauce?” Aziraphale blinked, quite confused. He still hadn’t caught up with the slang words the kids were using these days.

“Mmhm.” Crowley took another drag before offering it to Aziraphale, who obliged, “So what are you _really_ doing up here?”

“Just… Just thinking. Honest. After the Great War there’s been a lot of moving parts. Things are changing, and you know how I feel about change.”

“Aziraphale, you need to relax.” Crowley offered him a smile, leaning forward on her hands, “Can I tell you a secret?” She winked. Aziraphale nodded, leaning back into the chimney.

“I’m assuming it’s relevant?”

“Assume correctly. There is no one I’d rather be sitting here with than you.”

“Really?” Aziraphale’s eyes widened.

“Really. Humans are boring, too easy to manipulate. Don’t get me started on head office. They’re all a bunch of… A bunch of boobs.”

Aziraphale let a giggle leave his lips and he relaxed, taking another drag from the cigarette. He had to agree, Crowley was a wonderful companion to have. He watched the velvety stream of smoke fly into the air, swirling and dancing in the night sky until it disappeared completely. His eyes closed and he smiled contently, listening to the band start to play. He didn’t realize Crowley was still leaning in, a smile spread across her face.

“This song is a nice change of pace.” Aziraphale sighed. It was a slower tempo, different from the fast paced music the band had been playing all night. Crowley swallowed and held a hand out nervously.

“Angel…”

Aziraphale cracked his eyes open just barely, and held the cigarette out for her. 

“Can… Can I…” Crowley looked uncomfortable and quickly brought both hands into her lap, sitting back. Aziraphale blinked and looked from the burning tobacco in his hand, to her face.

“My dear… What’s wrong?” He finally asked, flicking ash down onto the shingles. 

“I um...” Crowley looked up to him and blindly grabbed for her bag, “S’nothin, Angel. I should probably get back downstairs-“

“Crowley would… Would you care to dance with me?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley’s cheeks heated a deep red and she turned her face to the side.

“Angel I’m not so sure-“

Aziraphale stood, wobbly on the uneven rooftop. He took one last drag from the cigarette before crushing it on the chimney behind him. Crowley watched his motions, worried he’d fall off the roof. But Aziraphale gracefully turned with a smile and offered a hand down to her politely.

“Let me ask in a more formal capacity then. May I please have this dance, my dear?”

Crowley looked at the hand with uncertainty as the music quieted down, and lyrics were sung. A shiver ran down her spine. They’d danced the Charleston together a year before. This wasn’t up an upbeat tempo though. This was slow, sensual music. It was romantic, under the moonlight and the stars she’d made all those eons ago. 

It was just a dance… right?

Crowley swallowed hard. She looked at the palm, the fingers attached as if it were a study of anatomy. She lifted her hand from her bag and touched the hand tentatively, an electric jolt running through every demonic fiber of her being.

“Sure, Angel.” She finally said, “I’d love to.”

Aziraphale tugged her to stand and offered a smile, holding their hands out to the side. Aziraphale’s eyes followed his hand as it slipped down to touch her waist, enjoying how his pale skin met the black of her dress. Crowley swallowed and waited for their eyes to meet, her pulse quickening under the touch to her waist. Aziraphale finally looked up, his cheeks pink but a smile crinkling the corner of his eyes, just how Crowley loved.

“Alright, my dear?” He asked softly. Crowley gave a nod and she lifted her hand to touch his shoulder so they were in position. 

_I'll be loving you, oh always.  
_ _With a love that's true always.  
_ _When the things you've planned,  
_ _Need a helping hand,  
_ _I will understand always…_

Aziraphale led, swaying and holding Crowley’s hand tightly. He may have performed a miracle or two to keep them from falling off the roof, but it was worth it to be this close to her. He could smell her perfume, something floral and maybe vanilla. He was certain it was Chanel. His heart thumped against his chest with every beat, and his palm was sweating in her hand. But the song, the words were beautiful, romantic, and Aziraphale felt like it was written for them. 

Crowley kept her eyes on Aziraphale as they swayed, hearing the instruments getting louder, or maybe it was her heart beating. Aziraphale could tell the song was coming to an end and pulled Crowley in closer, his hand wrapping around her back from her waist. Crowley’s eyes widened at their closeness. Just as the song ended, Aziraphale dipped her back gently. His eyes were half open, lips curved into a soft smile.

Crowley found she couldn’t hear the music any longer. Her heart had taken over her body. It was thumping in her ears, setting her nerves on fire, and her irises were blown wide. She couldn’t help it, she was so close. Her eyes closed tightly, she tilted her chin up, and pressed her lips against Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale’s eyes flew open wide, and he was stuck in place for only a moment. He nearly dropped poor Crowley off the roof. He stood them up quickly and pulled away, touching his lips. He was confused. 

“Crowley, what- why?”

“Aziraphale…” Crowley was now hurt and frightened, and her breathing was picking up pace, “I- I have to go, I shouldn’t have… I just got…” Crowley panicked, looking like a wild animal faced with the end of a hunter's gun. 

“Crowley, please wait-“

“I- I have to go…” Crowley slipped quickly down to the window and paused only a moment to look back to Aziraphale. She had tears brimming in her eyes, and with that last apologetic look, she was gone.

Aziraphale stood in his sudden loneliness and looked forlornly at his hand that had touched his lips. She’d kissed him. Just a moment ago, Crowley had kissed him. They had a lovely dance together, and by the end… Aziraphale was simply mad he hadn't the moxie to do it himself.

He looked past his hand to see Crowley’s small bag still sitting on the roof. He considered reaching inside for a cigarette, but felt it was rude to rummage through a lady's purse. Crowley was embarrassed and frightened. Aziraphale didn’t know what to do. She was scared of Hell, just as Aziraphale was of Heaven? Or worse… was Crowley afraid of _him_ ? _Embarrassed_ by him?

Aziraphale took his seat on the roof again, picking up her bag and clutching it to his chest. He leaned back against the chimney, glancing skyward again. Aziraphale let out a sigh as the band started to play something chipper. He wasn’t in the mood for chipper. He felt more like brooding over a lost opportunity. 

~**~2020~**~

Aziraphale stood beside his desk, pouring two large glasses of wine. It was quite a special occasion for his 1921 Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Aziraphale remembered how he loved the wine that year. The one shining light in the midst of how terrible that decade was to him. Now he was here, 100 years later celebrating with Crowley in the back of his shop. They were toasting themselves, swaying like drunkards to their success in saving the world. 

“To… To… To wine!” Crowley thrust his glass in the air, throwing his sunglasses off to the side. Aziraphale grinned and followed suit, clanking his glass against Crowley’s.

“To wine!” Aziraphale cheered. His cheeks were flushed from the drink, and he was definitely more wobbly on his feet than Crowley.

They drank, and drank, and then drank some more. Eventually, they came down to Aziraphale’s last unopened bottle of the vintage. He looked at it sadly, holding the bottle tightly to his chest.

“I’m going to miss this.”

“Miss what, Angel?” Crowley slurred, inspecting an empty bottle, “The wine? It’ll come back… We just have-“ *hic* “-have to sober up.”

“No, no… No, no, no. This. Us. You’re not going to come by anymore since we don’t have to work together or… or untogether…” He pointed at Crowley, “The whole same side thing. That one! That’s what I mean.”

“Mmmnah… I’m gonna be here-“ *hic* “-here all the time, watch. It’ll be like… like we’re _married_ or something, I dunno.” Crowley muttered toward the end, hand waving in front of his face. He stepped over to another table and found yet another bottle, looking for any hint of a drop of wine left behind. Aziraphale blushed softly, and suddenly gasped. 

“Crowley! Crowley, I just remembered I have a thing.” 

Crowley grinned and giggled, falling back onto the couch, “Me too. Didn’t always, though.”

“No, no you’re- that’s dirty- I have something of yours. From this vintage! Well… From somewhere… Oh, let me find it.” Aziraphale mumbled. He jumped up and started to pace around the shop, grumbling to himself how this would have been easier sober. He started toward the back corner and looked in boxes, on shelves, high and low.

“Angel, is it really that important that-“

“Yes it is! Ah! There you are. Let me just…”

“Angel?”

Aziraphale emerged from the many piles of books, cradling an item in his arms. “Let’s sober up… I um… It’s nothing special but I feel I owe you.”

“Owe me what?”

Aziraphale began the disgusting process of sobering up. Crowley shrugged, following suit. Their forceful push of fine vintage wine out of their systems led to lip smacking, and wrinkled noses. Aziraphale was so excited he couldn’t find the heart to care about the wine any longer. He padded to the table where the phonograph was and set the item down, walking quickly to stand before Crowley.

“Come here, dear.” Aziraphale held out a hand. Crowley looked up to him, eyes wide. He recognized this moment from long ago. They had danced in the moonlight, in plain sight of Heaven and Hell, afraid of being seen but willing to give it a shot. Crowley recalled how that night ended. He’d run from Aziraphale, embarrassed from kissing him, scared from the possibility of hurting him. 

That was the past.

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and gasped as he was pulled to stand. Crowley’s cheeks turned red as they were pressed flush against one another, and he slipped his free hand to Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale slipped his hand around Crowley’s waist, lacing the fingers on their other hands together. It was just as they had stood that night 100 years ago.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley swallowed nervously.

“I owe you a dance.” Aziraphale smiled. His eyes sparkled, crinkling in the corners just how Crowley loved. They started to sway, and Aziraphale gave a quick wave toward his phonograph.

It was the song… It was the same song from that night they danced on the rooftop, and Crowley felt his eyes dampen. Aziraphale knew he had mixed emotions that night when he ran off. For this moment, however, they simply held one another. It was different from 100 years ago, Crowley comfortably being held in the Angel’s arms, holding his hand just a bit tighter. Aziraphale’s thumb caressed the small of Crowley’s back, causing him to shiver.

“Crowley… You left your bag behind that night... on the rooftop. I held onto it for you. I um… I wanted to keep it safe.” Aziraphale said quietly. 

“My bag?” Crowley’s eyes darted to the phonograph, where a small bag sat in perfectly kept condition. His brow furrowed and he looked back to Aziraphale. His head tilted to the side, golden eyes wide and confused, “Angel… Why?”

“I kept it all these years so I could remember… That night was so special for me, Crowley. It was our first kiss.”

Crowley’s cheeks flushed a deep scarlet and he leaned away to get a better look at Aziraphale. He inspected his face to see if this was a joke, if Aziraphale was going to break out of this serious character he was portraying and laugh it off. But he didn’t. Aziraphale leaned closer, their clasped hands dropping to their sides. Aziraphale held Crowley tighter, his eyes questioning, and asking silent permission. Crowley finally realized it really wasn’t the bag that he’d been protecting all these years… 

It was _him_.

Crowley pushed forward so their lips met, and Aziraphale happily melted into the touch. He released Crowley’s hand and cupped his cheek, both of their eyes closing. The music continued to play, seeping around them and bringing warmth to a love that was hidden away for so many centuries. 

_Days may not be fair always,  
_ _That's when I'll be there always.  
_ _Not for just an hour,  
_ _Not for just a day,_  
_Not for just a year,  
_ _But always._

Crowley pulled away and pressed their foreheads together, his hands coming to Aziraphale’s neck. Their eyes opened, burning into each other. “Angel... You should have thrown it away. It’s just a useless bag.”

“Absolutely not.” Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile, “It holds a special place in my heart… It’s when I finally realized what it means to be good, the reason I was put on Earth. It was never to watch the humans, Crowley.”

“Angel…” Crowley bit his lip, fighting back a tear.

“It’s you… It’s always been you. The reason I was put on Earth, the reason for everything. It’s been to watch over you, and protect you.”

“Angel you’re…” Crowley closed his eyes and tried to hide, “Ngk.” Crowley let out a breath. His hands dropped to Aziraphale’s chest and he burrowed his red face into his shoulder with a shy smile.

“Alright?”

“Stop being so nice.” Crowley mumbled. Aziraphale let out a chuckle and wrapped his strong arms around Crowley’s shoulders, head tilting to lay a gentle kiss to his hair.

“Never.” Aziraphale murmured. With a wave, he restarted their song and proceeded to sway, keeping Crowley safe within his arms, always.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:
> 
> Mrs. Christie is Agatha Christie, who released The Murder on the Links in 1923.
> 
> Applesauce is 1920’s slang for Bull Shit, and a delicious snack. It’s also a wonderful compliment to pork chops.
> 
> The song they dance to is Always by Irving Berlin. It was actually written in 1925 for his wedding in 1926, and all proceeds went to his wife. But I liked it, and Sir Paul McCartney even recorded a version of it… So it’s now sung in 1923 because I want it to.
> 
> Kudos and comments ALWAYS welcome.
> 
> Find me on IG/tumblr as @mrsmoosie35


End file.
